


watch from a safe place, so I never have to lose

by genetic_design



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Ficlet, Half-Brothers - Enough Said, M/M, Mild Angst, One-Sided Attraction, Thomas isn't good at lying to himself, but he tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genetic_design/pseuds/genetic_design
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas grimaces, then takes a long pull on his beer. He has never been much for introspection — mucking about too deeply in his subconscious seems like a surefire way to dredge up some spectacularly awful revelations — but the thing is, denial only goes so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch from a safe place, so I never have to lose

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from "A Daydream Away" by All Time Low.

Thomas sits, alone in his quiet apartment, on his ridiculously fashionable and expensive couch, which he really does hate. It's tacky and far too firm and makes him long for comfortable, hideous plaid. Twisting the top off his beer — chilled to perfection, Mac's delicate sensibilities be damned — he wishes, not for the first time, that he was home. Stupidly small and depressingly decorated or not, he misses the old, drafty basement. His new place, while quite spacious and luxurious, lacks a certain something. Thomas is having a difficult time pinpointing what that something is, because he thrives on denial as much as he does oxygen, apparently.

Frustrated, he flicks the bottle cap through the air, his eyes tracking its journey towards the wall with disinterest. The cap smacks into the plaster with a soft clink, then clatters to the ground. Silence swells up once more, saturating the room. Rather than helping to calm the confusion of his thoughts, the hush amplifies the chaos in his head.

Thomas grimaces, then takes a long pull on his beer. He has never been much for introspection — mucking about too deeply in his subconscious seems like a surefire way to dredge up some spectacularly awful revelations — but the thing is, denial only goes so far. Still, that doesn't stop him from trying to reason with the insanity rattling around his brain, clamouring for attention.

So, attempt number one, it might just be the damn apartment itself that he misses. Familiarity and all that jazz. Except Thomas doesn't get halfway through the feeble explanation before he snorts and shakes his head. Hell, he's seen cardboard boxes bigger than that claustrophobia-inducing hovel Harry deigns to call an apartment. Add in the mismatched décor, the absolute lack of even a shred of privacy, and the fact that every item of clothing he owned became makeshift lint rollers for an unholy amount of dog and cat hair, and Thomas feels justified in deeming the living conditions of the place abysmal.

Which leads him to attempt number two, the sudden drop in excitement. Harry always seems to attract attention from the worst possible being at the worst possible time. Mavra, Nicodemus, the frigging Queen of Air and Darkness, to name a choice few. Really, the list goes on and on. Due to Harry's unnatural gravitation towards dangerous people and situations, Thomas had learned to stop counting the amount of mid-afternoon near death experiences that started off with such ordinary mornings.

Ever since he moved out, though, his existence has gone from ' _spontaneous, frantic, could die at any moment but at least I'm never bored_ ' to, for want of a better word, normal. Or as normal as a White Court vampire's life can get, anyway. No more power-hungry necromancers have shown up at his door toting hordes of reanimated corpses (and empty night, he thinks, only his special needs brother could wind up with fucking zombies laying siege to his home), so that's got to mean something.

Basically, Thomas, through no fault of his own, often found himself in the sights of the same scope targeting Harry by pure association. Like the time he had agreed to help out with, in Harry's words, a super quick and easy case, and ended up getting attacked by a deranged, half-naked, wanna-be warlock. One minute Thomas had been watching the mark slip into an abandoned warehouse out by the pier, and the next he was dodging fireballs that came whizzing at his face from down the block. (Harry had laughed himself sick when he returned home with two inches of hair singed off the left side of his head.) Admittedly, that specific incident might have been more his own stupid fault for not scoffing in Harry's face the moment "trail this guy back to his hideout, would you?" left his brother's mouth, but still.

Anyway, the point is, it's definitely not the anxiety-riddled, always waiting for the next death threat or high-profile murder or building explosion lifestyle that he's missing.

The third attempt has something to do with the loneliness simply hitting harder with no one else around, but Thomas's brain, treacherous thing that it is, punches holes in the ' _no one else_ ' part of that theory. 

All right, so maybe it has everything to do with a certain grumpy, brooding wizard who nagged him to death when he forgot to walk the dog or do the shopping. Because as hectic and insane and ridiculous as living with Harry could be, there had been a lot of good involved, too. Relaxing with a beer at the end of a grueling case, eyes growing heavy-lidded from the alcohol and warmth building in his chest from the conversation. Listening to Harry, a few too many drinks into the night, belt out the chorus to classic rock songs (loudly, and horribly off-key). Knowing that the one person who would take a damn bullet for him was almost always within arm's reach.

Thomas sighs and drains the rest of his beer. Some of those things he could do without experiencing ever again, but as for the rest, well... He thinks he can summarise his morose mood in a single reason.

He misses home because that's where Harry is.

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr](http://the-caitastrophe.tumblr.com); we can talk about silly, oblivious, made for each other boys.


End file.
